


Laugh, everyone will laugh with you. Weep, and you weep alone.

by taentropy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Tragedy, Battlefield, Bisexual Claude von Riegan, Blood and Violence, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Consensual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fear of Death, Fights, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Good Parent Jeralt Reus Eisner, Grief/Mourning, Homosexuality, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Mentioned Edelgard von Hresvelg, Mentioned Golden Deer Students (Fire Emblem), Partners to Lovers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Redemption, Romantic Soulmates, Sexual Content, Soulmates, Spoilers, edelgard is a fucking bitch, jeralt is DEAD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:24:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taentropy/pseuds/taentropy
Summary: On how Byleth realizes what it is like, to live for someone else who might die at any moment.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not much of a writer, but i've been obsessed by fire emblem lately, and the fact that i can't have a relationship with claude, as a man, drives me crazy... i'm really just enjoying myself, i'm not really expecting anyone to read this, but if you do, please let me know what you think!

Byleth was not born the kind to ever do something known as bad.   
After all, he was a blessed child. strange, staring without a sound, heartbeat frighteningly slow.

When he killed for the first time, he didn’t feel anything. He thought he could maybe rule the world. Keep going like this, forever, with Jeralt. As long as he would be here, as long as his blade was enough to know peace, he didn’t want anything to change.   
But when your father gets murdered in the most unfair way after years of fighting by your side, you definitely stop believing in anything such as “good” and “evil”.

He understood humans are even worse than beasts, spending their mediocre lives arguing, fucking, killing and disappearing. He felt like a god among them.   
That’s how he made his choice of not trusting anyone, especially the ones fitting in cases. The purest species are always the left behind, the ones who still have something to die for, the ones who would follow a prophet even when everything looks desperate. Commoners, sinners, fanatics or homicidal, who cares? Humans only struggle for their own sake.

That’s how he started standing up for chaos. And chaos only.

Then, he woke up from this endless nightmare, and Claude was there.


	2. seven stages of grief

The sky is already pitch black when Byleth decides to knock on Claude’s door. Although it is no less than two in the morning, he knows the House Leader is still awake. That doesn’t prevent him from sighing in relief when the door opens.

“Hey Teach’. Can’t sleep?” Claude doesn’t bother asking more questions.

He knows what’s up. That’s not the first time his professor has come for a visit, and ever since Jeralt died, the whole monastery has been throbbing in shock and denial. When Byleth collapses in his arms, his hands around him feel warm and conforting. They're big and strong, used by battles and relentless training, yet still surprisingly dainty. 

_Y__our touch feels like home, _Byleth thinks. He wishes he could think loud enough for Claude to hear.   
Words have never been his forte. 

"I'm sorry", he murmurs, voice even quieter than usual, "His death is still an open wound, and it only seems to get wider and more unbearable when the sun goes down."

"There's no need to apologize. It's not like I dislike having you around."

Claude's room is as messy as ever, books and parchments scattered everywhere, covering his bed and his desk. He never lets go of his light behavior, but it is obvious he's a serious and hardworking young man, always noticing every single details, always focused on the essentials, living day to day with big dreams and idealistic ambitions. That may be one of the reasons he attracted Byleth so quickly, making him feel things he had never felt before.  
Before, there was only chaos and destruction, strangely enough tangled with honor and commitment, both values Jeralt held to heart. 

Now, Jeralt is gone and everything feels dark. 

After pushing the books away and laying down next to each other, they spend a good five minutes staring at the ceiling, before Claude decides to break the silence.  
"Hey, Teach', have you heard about the seven stages of grief?"  
Obviously, Byleth hasn't.   
"Everyone experiences them after losing someone. I know you're not used to this - not being in control of your emotions. But it's natural, and you're just human after all."   
_I'm just human after all.  
_"Most people wouldn't understand. Some will tell you to get over it, because we're at war and there's no time for you to quit the land of the living. But that's how it is."

He sounds like he's waiting for an answer. But Byleth is too exhausted to look for something to say. He nods, slowly, his vision going blurry, warm tears waiting for a chance to fall. 

Claude's voice is soothing.   
"You're going through unbelievable pain. It's probably excruciating right now, and you don't know what to do except endure it. But you know what, Teach'? It means you got over the denial phase. Now you're starting to accept that it was written in fate."

"It was not written in fate." Byleth cuts him off, voice shaken by anger. Or is it a sob...? No. What could he feel except hatred and sorrow?   
Indignation? A thirst for revenge? "What do you know about fate? You don't even believe in the goddess. You're just a noble child, Claude."

That's probably the most genuine thing Byleth ever said out loud. 

Claude reacts so calmly it's unsettling. 

"Yes, I'm a boy, merely a man, and I'm probably living in my own personal utopia. But what does that make you, Teach'? I don't know about your age, but I for sure know that you're as much of a child as I am. What have you learnt as a mercenary? Probably more than I will ever learn on the battlefield. But about life and relationships? I am no genius, but I am fond of the human kind, and you're only a mortal."

As he speaks, his emerald eyes immersed in Byleth's teary ones, his hands are slowly reaching for his pale face, cupping his cheeks delicately. Like he's handling a wounded animal. 

_Why don't you get mad? _  
_Why don't you yell at me? _  
_Please, yell. Please, hate me. _  


But Claude would never do such a thing.   
Instead, he leans in, kissing him. 

And when Byleth feels his soft lips on his own, tears finally follow their way down his face. 

Before, there was only chaos and destruction, strangely enough tangled with honor and commitment, both values Jeralt held to heart.   
Now, Jeralt is gone and everything feels dark. 

Except Claude. 

  
_Claude, you are light. _   
_Sometimes, you shine so brightly, I must look away. _   
_But even so, is it still okay if I stay by your side?_


	3. anger and guilt

_hey, my child._  
_it's been a wild ride._  
_ i wanted to tell you..._

_oh _  
_nevermind._  
_ i'm getting tired._  
_ see you around, i guess._  
_ someday._

When Byleth wakes up, drenched in cold sweat, he can almost smell the scent of blood. It's making him dizzy. He can barely remember his dream, but he just knows the voice was familiar. Was it Jeralt's or Claude's...? It's getting blurry again. 

When he turns around, the Golden Deer house leader is facing him, green eyes piercing through obscurity. For how long has he been awake? 

"Hey Teach'." he murmurs, and he sounds far, far away. 

He ended up falling asleep close to him, after hours of silence. He doesn't know how to define what happened. That night, just by being there, Claude was his safe place, and the mercenary didn't have to speak to be understood.

"You should sleep some more." Claude adds, calmly. "We're spending the day on the battlefield, remember?" 

"I can't." 

Byleth's voice is shaky. It rarely ever happens. He's not the kind to lose control. He's not the kind to get all sensitive. But all he can see are red spots before his eyes, and all he can think about is the fear of loss.  
It used to be easy.  
When grief was not a thing.  
When his father seemed invicible.  
When he didn't know the students, coworkers and priests, whose lives appear to be more precious than he would have expected.

Turning to the side of the bed, he sits up, pulling his hair back.   
"I'll go get some fresh air."

"No. Let's discuss strategy."   
The nobleman isn't wrong, they should.

But what's strategy, in a world of war and violence?  
Chaos is all that remains, in the end.

When they will be facing foes, later, the best ones will survive. And where's justice?

The more he thinks about it, the more Byleth has trouble breathing. Soon enough, everything starts getting darker, black spots covering his surroundings. What if this time, they get defeated? What if he has to watch every single one of his students getting slaughtered one after the other? He never once doubted their skills before going on a mission, he never once got frightened, even in times of war. 

The warmth of Claude's hand on his wrist pulls him back to reality.

"Hey, Teach? You okay?" 

His soft fingers stroking Byleth's skin feel soothing. For a moment, the growing anxiety goes away. Still, gathering enough air to even get one word out of his mouth seems impossible. 

But Claude doesn't need words.

"As long as we're together, you're safe. I want to build my ideal empire with you, and it's because I know for sure fate wants you to stay by my side. I don't believe one second in the possibility of one of us dying before we get to realize that destiny."

Along with his words, both his hands are now traveling to Byleth's nape, and his waist, pulling him closer.   
When they kiss again, dawn is breaking, and the world is silent.   
Claude's skin smells sweet and feels like it's burning from the inside.   
When Byleth brushes his lips over his neck, the House leader can't help but shiver.   
When Claude lays his cheek on Byleth's inner thigh, brutal feelings meet desire.  
And when their bodies melt in one another, pleasured sighs filling the holy silence, their fingers are intertwined.

Claude is beautiful, golden chest and shoulders glowing with sweat. He's watching his partner through his long lashes, and Byleth feels home again.

_Maybe it was you I dreamt of, in the end.  
__Maybe it was your voice I heard, _  
_Because you're realer than any nightmare I could get. _


End file.
